Home a definite place or lack thereof

Home is an interesting thing. It has for sure changed at the onset of the invention of automobile and airplane. It took david Douglas over 8 months to reach the northwest coast of America from the UK. Now, it is a 10 hour flight. Home can pretty much be anywhere in this day in age if your wallet is not limited. In the 1800’s your home was where you were born, or probably within a 20 mile radius or less. I have been yearning. yearning to make a home.  I am a product of my era in this regard. It still feels more normal to be at home when I am on the road, in a place that is not my own. In a space I can look at and begin to ponder, trace down the thought path, wondering who has traveled this space, seen these buildings, seen the trees, the hills in the distance, some 5, some 30, some 50 miles away. And hasn’t memorized their shapes their idiosyncrasies  and detail because of a lack of repetitive exposure.

There is an amazing feeling of curiosity that overwhelms you when you can look around and wonder about the stories of everything around you. The people, the nature, the buildings, the beaches, the trees. The mountains, or the the redwoods. — perhaps they know more than anything (afterall some of them have been around for 2000 years in the same place) what home is. Mild weather, other trees, rain, fog, tourists, brief sunshine, more fog. Repeat, for 2000 years. In a few weeks, on the North Coast, I look forward to that moment, when I can ponder this thought in the presence of organisms that have a greater understanding of time.

Perhaps though, some people have discovered the deatail. But it is surface. I remember the house where I grew up. I know when the mall first went in up the street. I was 12 years old. Traffic never occurred to the degree on solomon pond road until the mall went in… My friends from my childhood know who I am probably better than most people, 13 years is a long time to kindle a friendship. There are memories and events that occurred which bond to a level that others will never understand, since the others weren’t present. And the last 6 years I have encountered 4 different places with different people, trying to fit in. Sadly it seems like a feeble attempt. There  can be connection, similar likes, similar personalities will always attract, and often there can’t be. Perhaps for a time of stretching and learning.  I am thankful for such relationships– both. It’s much easier when there is solid connection though. I am thankful for that. Especially in this newest place.   But even in those places with those people one can connect with, it still can seem a little weak. Like the baby brother that just entered the family when the older kids have been alive with already 6 years or so of solid friendship and memories. Details. You know them because they are in a sense your home. Time progresses, it gets better. Friendships take time. My first week in Romania was arguably one of the hardest weeks of my life. But time helped. Time brings you closer to the things, the places, the people that you are surrounded by, thereby creating and sense of home and normalcy.

It’s nice to be on the road again. I feel at home when I am not home. Especially with Amanda, I couldn’t think of a better companion to feel somewhat displaced, and to transition with. She knows the  sense of home when being on the road. When in between places. It’s a good sense, but overwhelming when it’s the case for a year or so at a time. Thankfully this is just a month. 2.5 weeks left. And what I am most thrilled about is the opportunity to revisit  arguably one of my favorite place in the world: the north coast of California.

end.

~ by dabhandeddrifter on March 24, 2011.